


Special Delivery

by Measured



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Birthday Cake, Canon-Typical Violence, Derogatory Language, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After accidentally finding out Miss Pauling's name and birthday, Scout sets off to get her a birthday cake. When the matches run long, Scout is determined to bring her cake back, even if it means going straight through the battlefield to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> From [this request](http://thisgirllovesherfandoms.tumblr.com/post/90469926353/thisgirllovesherfandoms-no-but-whatd-id-love). [Radcliffe college](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radcliffe_College) was a women's college which ran adjunct to Harvard. While integration began in 1977, full integration would not be completed until 1999.
> 
> Author's choice, author's choice, Outta my way!
> 
> Thanks to Hazmad for the beta.

Scout usually didn't pay attention to whatever papers came his way. He'd already seen too many nosy people get their heads blown off for daring to look too deep into TF Industries. He liked having a regular paycheck, and even his job, most of the time.

Besides, growing up in Southie, he knew that nobody liked a snitch. 

But this time, he saw just a scrap of something which caught his eye. He put his foot on the paper before it could float away into some crevice.

"Sheesh, you'd think they'd keep their freakin' secret briefcases tighter than this."

He bent down for a second, making like he was tying his shoe. Even he knew he'd have a gun to his head if he messed with top-secret crap. His eyes widened as he saw the one thing which was worth taking a bullet for.

_Name: Sophia Pauling. Age: 27. Birthdate..._

He scanned the paper quickly, and shoved it into a crevice with his foot. He stretched, like it was nothing in the world, like there weren't a dozen cameras out there catching his every awesome move he made. A shame Miss Pauling wasn't the Administrator...then he could hear her voice all day long, and she'd get a great view of his ass. 

Considering that he actually liked his guts in his body, he kept his mind in the game. But the minute he was done stealing briefcases and running circles around those chucklenuts, he was right back to the paper.

He held it in his hands like a real treasure, and broke into a smile. Sophia....hey, maybe she'd let him call her Sophie, and put his arm around her when they were out and about on the town. And then maybe she'd lay her head on his shoulder and come real close and—

That is, when he finally stopped frickin' choking and actually managed to ask her. 

She'd been born elsewhere, but she'd gone to _Radcliffe_ , of all places. She'd lived within frigging walking distance for so long. 

But people like him didn't go anywhere near those rich fucks at Harvard. Still, it somehow made all those cold years of being on the brink, of watching his friends and family go across seas and come back in coffins, that was if they didn't get done in at Southie.

And most of all, her birthday was less than a week away.

His first thought was guns. Like the old song went _guns are a girl's best friend_. Seriously, who didn't love guns?

But fill a room full of guns, and she'd think it was just the storeroom. Any guy could get a girl flowers, he had to be original, be real and not fucking choke this time. 

After hitting the showers, he wiped the mirror until he could see himself again. He gave his best suave grin at the mirror. "Hey, pally. You can do this. You are goin' to look into those gorgeous green eyes of hers, and not stammer at all. You are goin' to knock it out of the park and do somethin' so romantic, so amazin' that she will totally go out with you."

A couple years back, he'd finally gotten a second to talk to her, after months and months of thinking she'd had the finest ass around. Back then, she was just another girl, one who he'd have liked to get into her pants, but even then he'd have called her back, that's for sure.

But now that she wasn't just a girl, but _the_ girl, the one he couldn't stop thinking about, even when he was out to eat and the waitress was really hot, now he couldn't say jack shit to her. She was worth more than pick up lines and cheesy romance. He wanted to invent new words for her, do stuff nobody had done before, and then take her out to see old movies.

He wasn't good at school, failed out and got in fights, and the only words he was good at was smack talk. Saying something sweet made him want to punch himself in the face. Repeatedly.

Scout puffed himself up and did a finger gun at the mirror. "You're the man, Scout. You're handsome, strong, really fast, and a champ at gettin' that intel. Any lady would want some of that."

God, he hoped she didn't go for smart boys. He could dodge guns and rockets, but if spouting math figures was her kind of thing, he was seriously boned. 

*

He finally settled on a cake, and a bit of a party, because who didn't like cake? Except the communists. Fuck those kitten and cake hating bastards. Soldier had told him all about them. If he could manage to get her a cake, and maybe a little party where he'd go off on how special she was, then even if he choked, she'd get the idea.

There was this cake shop in the middle of town which was all foofy and crap, with little lacy curtains and gold and white decor. He'd been there a few times to try the wares, but never stayed very long. Everyone knew chicken joints were the best place to hang for picking up chicks, even better than bars.

Besides, it wasn't a place for a guy like him. Too fancy, too rich and high class. The women there wouldn't even look at him, like he was something nasty they stepped in.

After a lot of thought, he finally figured on chocolate, because not even communists could hate chocolate. He added on the idea of frosting and designs and stuff, so it'd be the prettiest cake she ever had. The only problem was actually getting out there. Her birthday was on a weekday, and by the time the matches were done, most stores were closed. 

But, he was prepared for that, too. He phoned his order in before the matches started, and kicked it up about ten notches, stealing so many briefcases that BLU might as well have just all died in shame.

And despite all that, he heard the dreaded word _Overtime_.

Scout pulled off his cap and slapped it against the wall. "Jeez! What the hell is that crap? You have _got_ to be kiddin' me!"

He ran his fingers through his hair. At this rate, all his plans would be dashed to pieces. He'd never get that cake to her, he'd never get to show her just how important and special and amazing she was to him. The sun was already sinking into the horizon. It'd take a half hour of pushing himself to the limit to make it to town on foot, and that was if the match finished this second.

He put his cap back on, and turned towards the enemy base.

"You know what? Fuck this," Scout said. He downed a can of Bonk, and waited the seconds until everything went so fast he could barely even think. Bullets whooshed past him harmlessly as he rushed towards the other base. Wood splinters flew through the air, rockets crashed, and not a single one even grazed him.

Just as he was about to reach the Respawn room of the other side, he downed another Bonk. Sure, he was pushing it, but he'd push every limit and more for her, even if it made his heart explode.

"Practically a blur here," He called out to all those jerkwads who were slow, they wouldn't even see his dust as he made off with their intel.

He leapt up onto the chair, and quickly glanced about the room. The BLU Engineer was dead with a knife in his back, right next to his sparking rubbles of buildings.

"You snooze, you lose, pal," he said. He strapped the intel to his back. "You can take your intel and shove it up your ass. Actually, you can't, because _I'm_ takin' it so I can do the job in person!"

Even with the increased weight, he pushed himself as fast as he could. Every second he wasted was one he'd have to make up on the run there. 

He jumped once, twice and narrowly missed a rocket soaring his way. He hopped onto the red covered bridge, a new rain of bullets passing by at every step. He leapt off, knee deep in water as he climbed his way not to his base, but to the tall fence covered in barbed wire at the edge which surrounded the base. 

"All right, Scout. You can do this," he said. With a nod, he took off on a run. As he leapt over the fence, he thought not of what was to come, not the possible failure, but what it'd look like to see her really smile at him.

*

He'd taken the road to the nearest town tons of times. Part for training, part to see if any cute girls were hanging at the local joint and needed some company. But this was a whole other thing entirely. 

Sand in his shoes, spines in his leg, a bruise from where he'd stepped on a rock, and a nasty sunburn, and over a half an hour of running with the sun in his eyes were just more war wounds on the way to her.

He got in just as the sun was setting all red and bloody gold over the horizon. Most of the stores had already closed up with darkened windows and closed shutters. He'd made good time, good enough for a medal, if they gave those out for trying to catch deadlines.

The shop receptionist was just switching the sign over to closed.

"Hey, wait, I got an order!" He called towards the closing door.

"Sir, we're closed," she said. She was a small elderly woman who always managed to look disapproving to Scout, though he'd seen her warm up to about every other person who came in, even Soldier when he was covered in raccoons.

"Please! I gotta get this cake!" I-I'll pay you extra. A hundred dollars, consider it a tip!"

She pursed her thin mouth, looking him over suspiciously. "Don't make it a habit," she finally said.

He followed her in, taking in the fancy and delicious sights for just a second. She worked fast, with the box in his hands before he'd even had a chance to order a snack for himself to go.

He all but shoved the money at her across the tall display filled with delicious desserts. "Keep the change!" He said.

Sore, limping somewhat, but with renewed hope, he ran off back to the base. Papers trailed behind him, blowing off into the wilderness behind him. 

*

The frigging match had continued on without him, with those chucklenuts chasing each other around like the intel didn't even matter. Getting over the fence with the cake made it a whole lot tougher. One bounce and the cake would be a spattered mess of chocolate.

He let out a long sigh and took it the hard way, with the cake balanced on his head as he climbed over the top. Barbed wire dug into his skin, but he went on, biting back the cries of pain lest it draw gunfire towards him.

He kept the cake balanced every agonizing moment as he climbed over. His clothes were ripped and bloodied, torn to gashes from the fence.

At least he hadn't tried to scale one which had been electrified. 

He took off at the edge, the blood-tinged water ringed with corpses and bullet shells. A rocket exploded behind him, dashing any hopes that this would be remotely simple. He ducked behind the sewer entrance to his base, and saw a blue laser inches above his head. 

He held the cake tight as he heard the revving up of a minigun ahead. The gun stopped, the battle cry turned to a death knell as the gun fell to the floor. Another cry soon joined his, and as Scout came around the corner, he saw the BLU Heavy and BLU Medic both with knives in their backs. 

Spy wiped the blood from his suit. "Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" he said.

"Oh, yeah! Uh, thanks for that!"

"I'll bill you later," Spy said.

"Fuck you too," Scout said.

He could hear Spy's laughter long after he'd rushed up the stairs. But he had new things to worry about, like the enemy Sniper who wanted his head. He ducked down, cake tight against his chest as the wood exploded behind him. Another series of rockets crashed into the walls, which had to have some Australium or something keeping them up, because how else could they take a beating like that every damn day?

Out of frigging nowhere, a BLU Pyro started following after him. His flamethrower was full blaze. Scout took a leap, just barely missing another wave of flames.

"A little help, here!" 

No one answered. In retrospect, maybe he shouldn't have told Spy to fuck off. He pushed on down the halls, past the reams of machinery that he had no idea what did. With one last leap, he got into the intel room. Several beeps and rockets passed by him. In mere seconds, the enemy Pyro was nothing but a bloody pile of organs. 

Engineer patted his sentry. "Good boy."

He gasped for breath, and limped further in. What if the the cake had gotten smushed in all this? He opened up the top with trepidation. It was only that he saw it wasn't too worse for the wear that he sunk against the wall.

"You goin' to take that in yourself?" Engineer said.

"Just...catchin'...my breath."

"Really, and here I thought you were a champ at runnin'—that's what you're always sayin'," Engineer said.

"Fuck you, I'll go ten miles more---!" Scout rose up and stuck his tongue out. "In fact, I'm goin' to take it in right now. Riiight now."

"She's in her office," Engineer said.

"Jeez, does everyone but her know?" Scout said

"You do have a habit of screamin' it out at every opportunity," Engineer said.

"Yeah, you got me there. And thanks, pally," Scout said. He nodded, because he couldn't exactly salute with his hands full. "Oh, and, can you get that door?"

He went faster through the halls with no gunfire or rockets coming his way. Something in him was pulsing. A knowing that this was his chance, maybe his one chance. But just as the key moment, just as he reached her office, he forgot the step at the door from where they had to fix the hole Demoman put in there.

He sprawled out and the cake went flying. She ducked, and all he could do was close his eyes as it hit the wall in a splatter. The cake box fell to the floor, misshapen with chocolate leaking out of the side.

"Son of a bitch," he said, breaking the awkward silence. He'd only just realized that he'd smeared blood all over her floor when he fell. And knocked over several papers, which were also covered in blood. 

She rose from the now-messy desk with a silent fury. He'd seen that glare turned on plenty of mercenaries. He was caught between thinking her rage made her even more beautiful, with her green eyes bright and dangerous, her cheeks flushed, and the cringing knowledge that he was on the precipice of fucking up so badly she'd never even look his way again, let alone talk to him.

"Scout, what did you do?" Miss Pauling said, her voice low with anger.

"It ain't what it looks like! I found a paper, and I couldn't just let it lie, and—" he said.

"You _what_?" she said.

"It was nothin' big, I was just gettin' the intel as usual, and saw somethin'," he said.

"That is–" She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "You know what this company does to people who infiltrate secret documents, Scout. "

"Nothin' else! Just you!" he cut in. "And can I call you Sophia, or even Sophie?"

"Where did you–my personnel files were in a briefcase?" Miss Pauling said incredulously.

"Yeah, that's all I saw, swear on a stack of bibles," he said.

She picked up the poor squashed cake that he had gone to hell and back for. Only the left side hit the wall, and it was still kind of intact, though now all that expensive work looked like something a five-year-old would make.

"No one has remembered my birthday in years," she said. She dipped her finger in the chocolate and put it in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. He tugged at his collar; suddenly the room felt a lot hotter. If he had any idea her enjoying would be this erotic, he would've bought her a frigging store and personally delivered her some every day.

"It's a silly thing to get so worked up over," she said.

"Nah, everyone wants to feel special–and you are, special, I mean. You do so much for us and..."

He was getting straight into friend and coworker territory, so he charged on, past the choking fear.  
"—but it ain't about them, you are the most special girl I ever met. I mean, just look at you! You're smart, and you smell good, and you could kick all our asses, and you can read, and, and—I could literally go on here for all day long about how gorgeous and awesome and great you are. Seriously, hours. This birthday could go on for a week—When I first saw that, I thought, hey, someone needs to remember her, because there is somethin' wrong that there isn't someone followin' her all the time and telling her what a great person she is. You shouldn't go a second without a compliment, because you're like—a livin' fancy goddess of a girl—"

She took another taste of chocolate, and looked him over. He pushed himself up, cringing somewhat from the pain. It was hard to arrange himself in a sexy position when every move only made his gashes worse.

She pushed up her glasses. Something in her seemed softer as she leaned down to help him up. He reveled at the touch, the smell of her skin, even the smooth feel of her fingers entwined in his. He'd never met a girl who could make him this happy just holding their hand. So happy in fact, that he could push back the sex for ages just as long as he got to be close to her. 

"Do you give massages?" she said.

"What? Yeah, I used to rub ma's shoulders and feet when she got home all the time. Why?" Scout said. He still hadn't let go of her hand.

"Let me tell you what, I'll help clean up your wounds, I'll attempt to smooth over the fact that you _left in the middle of an official match_ and likely scattered intel all across the county, if you bring chocolate and massages. Deal? And yes, you can call me Sophie when no one else is around," she said.

"Sophie, every day you're around me is goin' to be like your birthday, I'll be sure of it," Scout said.

"It better for all the paperwork I'm going to have to do for this latest mess up," she said.

He flinched a bit at that, but he was expecting some kind of punishment to happen. Hell, he figured he'd be taken before the boss again. And that was not something he ever wanted to experience in his life again.

She smiled, and it was so, so beautiful. "Just keep your schemes to after business hours," she said.

"Ain't got time for any schemes if I'm chasin' after you all day long," Scout said.

"My thoughts exactly. This should take down my daily paperwork by at least thirty percent," she said.

"And, and, chocolate!" he said, a little desperately. "Eh? Eh?"

She leaned forward and kissed him. He hadn't expected the sweet taste of her mouth, the softness of her chest against his. For several seconds his mind just blanked out.

Sure, he'd kissed plenty of girls, but it didn't make his chest go like this, it didn't make him stupid in the head, it didn't make him wanna dance with death just to get her to look his way again.

"You look about ready to swoon," she said. "Wait, is that from blood loss?"

She bent down and laid her hand on his chest for a brief second. His pulse rate soared at the touch. 

"Sit down," she said.

She pulled out her handkerchief and began to mop up the blood through the tatters of his shirt. "Wow, these are deep. Did you run into a Sniper?"

"Nah, the barbed wire was nothin' compared to the thought of seein' you smile!" 

She paused, her handkerchief pressed to his abdomen to stop the bleeding. When she leaned in to kiss him the second time, it was even sweeter.


End file.
